


Caught Between Two Lungs

by Emeli_Thorne



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Demelza is a ray of sunshine, F/M, Fluff, Loss of Memory, Ross is completely smitten, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeli_Thorne/pseuds/Emeli_Thorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern!AU: Ross Poldark had it all:wealth, friends, and women. But his reckless behaviour had put a strain on his relationship with his father, until he finally drew the line. Now, Ross is on a journey of self-discovery. And maybe a certain redhead will help him see the world in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! So, this is my first fanfic in the Poldark fandom and I hope you'll like it. I've watched the show and needless to say, I'm totally Romelza obsessed! However, I haven't yet read the books, so I apologise in advance if I get some of the characters’ traits wrong. I’m working off what I've picked up from the series, but giving the story my own twist.
> 
> Also, super important: English is not my native language. If you see some mistakes (and there will probably be some), try to ignore them, please. I'll edit the story when I have the time. Also, I will probably be mixing British English and American English, sorry about that.
> 
> Full summary: Modern!AU: Ross Poldark had it all: wealth, friends, and women. But his reckless behaviour had put a strain on his relationship with his father, until he finally drew the line. Filled with anger and remorse, Ross was decided to prove he wasn't a lost cause. But he couldn't have known what the Fate had planned for him. Now, he would have to face new challenges as he tries to piece his life back together. Maybe a certain redhead could help him with that.
> 
> Your feedback is much appreciated and will let me know whether I should continue with the story or not.
> 
> So, without any further ado, enjoy :3

It was a cold windy afternoon when Ross Poldark marched out of his father’s house, carrying nothing but a duffel bag in his hand and a whole lot of anger in his heart. His coat fluttered behind him like a cape as he dialled a cab, his jaw still clenching every time his father’s words came to his mind.

His car keys were left on the dining room table along with his credit cards. The little cash he had on him he held onto so he could pay for the cab, and the plane ticket that would hopefully take him far away from his current life.

Oh, how he wished he could have held his tongue this time. He mightn’t have been in this situation had his brain worked for once.

He sat on the backseat and instructed the driver to the airport. He was so distracted that he didn’t even put on his seatbelt.  The cab driver tried to make small talk, but Ross’s head was elsewhere.

Ross kept replaying the fight he had with his father and the harsh words that were exchanged. His breath caught in his throat as he fought not to cry, wiping the invisible tears off his cheek.

To know how much his father was disappointed with him, how utterly ashamed he was of having a son like him burnt him from the inside.

He knew that his life choices had not been great, but he had always excused himself by pointing out that he was young and that he had the right to enjoy life and not worry about boring stuff. He had no interest in their family company, which was the main bone of contention between his father, his uncle, and himself.

Ever since his mother died, his father had been a caring parent, wanting to provide his son with all the love he was deprived of with his mother’s death. That, however, proved to be insufficient as Joshua watched his son make rash and unreasonable decisions, ruining every chance he was given. He had been given numerous chances to prove himself, but he chose to throw them all away.

Time after time, one mistake after another, Joshua’s hope that his son would learn from his mistakes never faltered. He hoped that Ross would finally decide to end his partying days and join him in their family’s company. No such luck.

Wasting his family’s fortune on endless amounts of booze, girls, and useless things wasn’t such a good idea, Ross knew that already. He wished he could say that his father was wrong, that he wasn’t a screwup. However, deep inside he knew that he was; he knew that he wasn’t ready to engage in anything serious. Not in his private life, not in their family business. Ross wanted to live, live his life to the fullest.

Joshua was a patient man, but even his patience had its limits. Threatening his son with cutting him off completely never yielded anything, save for Ross’s growing resentment and Joshua’s rage.

That seemed to be their constant game; his father would threaten to kick him out and Ross would just laugh in his face, knowing that his father would never do such a thing.

After months of arguing and pleading, his father had had enough of Ross’s irresponsibility. Finally, in spite of the ache in his heart and his mind telling him not to do, Ross’s father kicked him out of their house.

Ross was beyond words. He wished he had apologised, wished he hadn’t said all those horrible insult to his own father.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realise when the lorry hit the cab. Next thing he knew he was thrown out of his seat and being tossed around within the confinements of the metal box.

Faint sounds of sirens, people screaming and shouting was all he could hear as he fought to get up. His legs wouldn’t listen, and he could feel the warm liquid sliding down his face. The metal scent of his blood hit his nostrils, as did the smell of smoke and burnt flesh. His brain fought desperately to make sense of what just happened, but the shock was too great to make even one reasonable thought.

Ross’s eyelids closed slowly as he lost consciousness.

***************************************************************************

The annoying beeping sound was what finally brought him to his senses. It was like his already pounding head was being hit with a hammer, repeatedly. He opened his eyes, only to shut them immediately, as he wasn’t ready for the sudden brightness that seemed to burn his corneas. Ross then opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light.

Scanning his surroundings, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of trepidation. Everything in the room, including the walls was white: the windows, the walls, the small chair and the nightstand next to the bed. Even his covers were white, as was his clothes. All that whiteness made him dizzy.

There were all sorts of machines around him, and a weird metal clip on his finger.

_Was he in a hospital? But why?_

He wanted to call for someone, a nurse, a doctor, but his dry throat prevented him from uttering a single word. He started coughing, every muscle in his body aching from the exertion.

“Oh, Ross. You’re awake!” a female voice chimed, but he couldn’t see her as he was still coughing. – “Here, here. Drink some water. Oh, you poor thing!” – she offered.

Grabbing the glass of water from her in no gentleman-like manner, he drew it to his lips with shaky hands and drank all of it. He sighed, closing his eyes to savour the moment of cold tasteless liquid pouring down his throat. When he opened his eyes again, he was met by a sight of a woman.

A tall, beautiful brunette. Her hair was tied in what seemed a braid, the tail hanging over her right shoulder. She wore simple black jeans and a long sleeved magenta blouse. Her eyes were warm as she looked at him, a smile spreading across her young face.

Ross frowned, his mind buzzing with questions.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?” the woman asked with clear concern in her voice as she sat on a chair next to his hospital bed.

Ross mouthed to say something when a man rushed into the room.

“Ross! You’re awake! Thank goodness!” the ginger-haired man exclaimed with a wide grin, coming to stand behind the woman.

“Oh, Francis, I’m so relieved,” she covered Ross’s hand with hers and his gaze immediately dropped to her hand, his frown deepening.

Ross lifted his head and eyed them both with confusion, swallowing the lump in his throat before asking:

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”


	2. Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and Ross have no prior history nor will they have it. She is not a villain in this story.
> 
> Also, it has been quite a while since I wrote anything so I apologise if anything seems odd. I'm still struggling to find my way back to writing.
> 
> Anyhow, please leave any sort of feedback :D

 

Ross stood next to the window, gazing down the street, watching people moving hurriedly across the street and cars whose drivers seemed to be in as much hurry as the pedestrians as they kept honking.

He was trying to stay calm, to process all the information he got over the last twenty-four hours without shouting or breaking anything.

As it turns out, the brown-haired woman that stayed by his side while he was in hospital, hooked on those darn machines and fighting for his life, was Elizabeth, and the man was Elizabeth's fiancé and Ross' cousin, Francis.

Both of them were beyond happy that Ross finally woke up, having spent ten days in coma. According to them, the doctors that attended him feared he mightn't wake up since he was pretty badly beaten up and had sustained a severe concussion.

His motor skills seemed fine, save that he had bruises and scratches all over his body as well as terrible headaches and couldn't sleep. The doctors assured him and his relative that he would recover soon, but Ross did not in the least feel convinced.

He was surrounded by strangers, at least that is what those people were to him now. Even if he knew them once, there wasn't a trace of a single memory of them which only frustrated him more.

Shaking his head to ward off further thinking that caused him headache, he went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, his hands trembling as he did so. As he lifted his gaze towards the mirror, a stranger's face that looked back at him did nothing to ease the sense of restlessness in his stomach. What is more, it made him sick to look at himself in the state he was in now so he quickly exited the bathroom, rushing towards the cell phone Elizabeth had left him in case he needed them.

Opening the contacts list, he found her number and dialled, resolute to get out of the hospital. All those doctors and nurses and constant check-ups and the overall smell of death and illness that hung in the air suffocated him to the point he was ready to jump through the window just to get out of there.

Luckily, Elizabeth answered after a few rings and said she would come as soon as she was able to, seeming quite worried for Ross.

He couldn't blame her. He was worried about himself too. Ross didn't feel like Ross Poldark, as they said his name was. He didn't feel like anyone in particular. The fact that he was a stranger to himself scared him because, how could one forget oneself, one's entire life?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ross, darling. Please, sit down. Francis should be here shortly and then we can discuss further steps regarding your situation," Elizabeth pleaded as she pulled Ross onto the bed.

It'd been five minutes since she came and Ross hadn't sat since, pacing up and down the room and raking his hands through his untamed black curls. The look on his face clearly showed his discomfort and torment, mirroring the battle happening inside him.

"Elizabeth, I cannot stand this anymore. I've asked you times and times to tell me about my life, my...past. I sense both of you are hiding something from me and I just... I can't stand not knowing."

He lifted his gaze towards the woman in question, noticing his words had struck a chord with her. In a vain attempting to school her features, Elizabeth reached for him once more,

"Ross-"

At that moment, Francis knocked on the door, looking cautiously between Elizabeth and Ross as if assessing some potential threat. Surely, he felt the tension in the room, noticed Ross' distraught appearance and Elizabeth's desperation.

"Oh, thank goodness. Francis, Ross has been on tenterhooks and I couldn't dare to say anything without you," exclaimed Elizabeth, offering a gentle smile to her fiancé.

"Of course, dear. I'm glad you waited for me," Francis squeezed her shoulder lightly as he leaned down to kiss her forehead and sat on the chair next to Ross's bed. Turning towards him, he asked,

"My dear cousin, how are you feeling today?"

Ross scowled a little, standing up once again and walking to the window, gripping his head tightly, breathing in deeply to compose himself.

"I'm not quite sure how to answer you satisfactorily. I haven't slept, my entire body hurts and I can hardly stand upright but I can't lie for too long either. I feel trapped, and this place is suffocating me," he answered earnestly.

Ross turned and exhaled loudly as if trying to rid himself of some burden, then realising the silence in the room, observed his cousins, who were fidgeting nervously in their seats and exchanging odd looks.

"What is it? Please tell me. I'm already going mad as it is."

Francis cast a look at Elizabeth once more, and when she answered his unasked question with a light nod, spoke. "Ross, please sit down. What we have to tell you is of great importance. Unfortunately, it is no good news."

"What? Can there be anything worse than my losing my memory and almost ending up a cripple?"

Francis ignored his remark and waited for Ross to have a seat on the bed, all the while clenching his fists nervously and clearing his throat while Elizabeth took Ross' hand intertwining their fingers.

"Ross, I'm afraid... I'm afraid... Your father, Ross. He passed away."

The only answer Francis got was an empty gaze. Ross did not move nor did he make to speak. Elizabeth on the other hand, sniffed and wiped a stray tear off her flushed cheek. Ross remained silent though his breathing became ragged.

"How did it happen?" he finally asked after a few minutes, his voice unwavering, showing no emotion.

"Heart attack. When he got the news of your accident... they misinformed him. Told 'im you died. With his weak heart and that quarrel you had had before you left the house... I am terribly sorry, cousin. It is a most unfortunate event."

Lowering his head slightly, Ross took a few moments to try and recollect this man, his father. He searched and searched his memory but to no avail; his mind was a blank sheet, devoid of memories, his heart vacant of emotions towards the man save for common human compassion.

How was it possible he felt not an ounce of pain within his soul for a man who raised him and provided for him?

Ross felt anger bubbling up, simmering just under the surface of the emotional lid he struggled now to keep on, at least until Francis and Elizabeth left. Her hand was still holding his; he imagined she wanted to convey her sympathy and support. He could feel Francis' eyes on him, patient, warm.

"My mother?" he managed to croak out, surprising even himself.

It was Elizabeth who replied in her calm, soft voice. "Your mother passed away when you were but a child, may God rest her soul. It was just your father and you."

"Ross, please say something. I know we've thrown this at you but the doctors said we had to do it lest you find yourself wanting to go home and...well, wonder, you know. I'm terribly sorry. Elizabeth and I are, of course, here for you. Whatever you need, just let us know."

"Francis is right. We're here for you. We've talked and agreed it would be for the best you came to live at Trenwith, with us, so as to have someone caring for you."

Ross couldn't make himself respond anything but to faintly whisper, "May I, please, be left alone? I-I need a few moments for myself."

He let go of Elizabeth's hand and walked to the window again, focusing on the noise coming from the outside rather than on his racing heart and ever growing sense of despair and misery.

Francis and Elizabeth shared a look before getting up, Elizabeth hooking her arm under Francis as they left Ross' hospital room, but not before both of them cast a glance at him one more time. Ross paid them no attention, merely waiting to hear the familiar click.

When the doors closed, he rushed to the bed and lay in it, pulling the covers over his head. His whole body shook as the cries ripped from his throat; he was overcome with grief for a life he couldn't remember, a mother and a father he couldn't recall, and genuine sense of hollowness that filled his heart.


End file.
